Reviews with content warning for Medical content - The Kissing Bug: A True Story of a Family, an Insect, and a Nation's Neglect of a Deadly Disease

Reviews tagging 'Medical content'

The Kissing Bug: A True Story of a Family, an Insect, and a Nation's Neglect of a Deadly Disease by Daisy Hernández

6 reviews

onlyonebookshelf's review against another edition

Go to review page

emotional informative reflective medium-paced

5.0

Content Warnings

just_one_more_paige's review

Go to review page

informative reflective medium-paced

4.0

I would never have picked this one up without seeing a review from @irisbooklist - and even then it was a chance library shelf encounter and spur of the moment "grab it" decision that put it in my hands this soon.

In this work of nonfiction, Hernández combines a bit of memoir, research into public health and infectious disease, and journalism (in the form of interviews), to provide readers with a fully dimensional introduction to Chagas, or the kissing bug disease. Growing up, Hernández knew that her aunt was sick, but it was just a part of who she was. Years after her aunt's death though, Hernández began to research more into the disease, learning that it is, in fact, even more prevalent in the US than Zika, and considerably less known. And she decides to investigate further, interviewing doctors, public health and military health specialists, and patients, to learn more about this parasite: its history, the "kissing bugs" that carry it (found only in Latin America and the US), the experiences of people that have the parasite (with varying levels of being affected), and how/why it is not covered more fully in preventive testing/medical classes/general knowledge.

First of all, I am always amazed, any time I pick up nonfiction, at how much I still don't know. Like, I feel generally well informed and educated, but until picking this up, I had never heard of Chagas or kissing bugs. And I know there are a lot of niche diseases, but just in a general sense, I just feel like the more I learn, the more I realize I don't know. There's a graph for that somewhere...I know I've seen it. Anyways, I do remember Zika, as it jumped into public awareness during the years I was getting my MPH, and I appreciated the comparisons to it here, for context. Hernández explores why diseases like Zika, which actually affects less people in the US than Chagas, got more awareness and public concern (spoiler: they're more visually impactful). This shouldn;t come as a surprise, considering the way we handle mental health issues in this country as well, but is still an important reminder.

Relatedly, I really appreciated the way Hernández brought together poverty, parasitic infections, migration and access to health services and stigma (in the overlap of disease and race/ethnicity) in a way I’ve never seen before. In talking to individuals affected by the disease, she not only gave insight into the variety of ways people can be infected and experience the disease, but also the lack of knowledge or education about how it's passed, why/how getting tested is important, or the ability to afford or access the early treatment of the parasite that can prevent the deadly longer-term effects on the heart. The way the affected populations, mostly low-income, Spanish-speaking populations, have had to just accept this disease, the bug bites that pass it and the potential that they have it, as a natural/unavoidable part of life, is quite upsetting. Hernández focuses in on this idea even further in the chapter about the “great epi divide,” detailing the way public policy/public health often consider a disease contained, even when it remains a concern for marginalized populations, who said policy chooses not to treat or provide services too, because they can be ignored/are less able to speak up for themselves/concern for their own health. And in a thematic parallel to the concepts in McGhee's The Sum of Us, she also demonstrates how that approach, slashin services to certain populations, ends up hurting us all in the end (it's not a zero-sum game!).

This book was a quick, fascinating read. It covered a lot of ground with accessible detail (on the medical/scientific front) and relatable stories (on the individual experience/memoir front). I enjoyed how much I learned, informationally, as well as the succinct, but thorough, commentary on the social justice aspects of infectious diseases, the confluence of racial politics, poverty and for-profit healthcare. And I am also not not freaking out about every new bug bite I get right now. Haha. But for real, this was a really interesting read, and I would definitely recommend it.

“This, however, is where medicine and science trip into racial politics, raising weighty questions about whom we choose to take care of and when and how and for what reasons.” (Especially when diseases are seen/external, like Zika, or unseen/internal, like mental health or the kissing bug.)

“The phrase 'the great epi divide' makes me think of old paper maps and signs about who is allowed to enter and who has to stay out. It is a phrase that points to an American reality: some people are taken care of and others are not. A choice is made. The 'great epi divide' sounds more accurate to me than the more ubiquitous 'disparities in health care,' which suggests that a terrible thing has happened, but without active participation on anyone's part. Disparities arise. Inequalities exist. These words trouble but, at the same time, offer reprieve: no one is implicated. The same is true of the word 'poverty,' that knife of an abstraction. A phrase like 'diseases of poverty' obscures the degree to which we have made choices about funding for public health.”

Content Warnings